


The Second Date

by sonictrowel



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Old Doctor, Romance, young River
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 06:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12600096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: She studied him intensely.  He didn’t look older— well, not physically.  But then, she’d only ever seen him the once.  It was ridiculous, when she thought about it: how she turned her whole world upside down because of a man she’d barely met.But then he looked at her the way he was looking at her now, and it made an awful lot of sense.





	The Second Date

 

 

River’s senses prickled the moment she turned the key in the lock.  Her very first day moving in, and already they’d sent someone after her?  She didn’t exactly _know_ to expect them; the memories were all a blur, really.  But she’d been trained to kill the Doctor, and, well, she _had_ done, but rather more briefly than she supposed her former keepers had intended.  She was certain they’d be coming round at some point to rectify the situation.

Good.  She’d get a good look at them, finally, and they’d get the last look of their lives.

In one fluid motion, she threw open the door, dropped the little box of her belongings to the floor and levelled her gun into the room.

“River!” the Doctor cheered.  She froze.

He was seated at the far end of her room, dressed in a waistcoat and shirtsleeves, his purple frockcoat discarded on the bed and his feet kicked up on the desk, tossing a paperweight that looked like a crystal ball back and forth between his hands.  “Happy first day at uni!”

River knew immediately that she should drop the gun, but adrenaline was still racing through her and so were those _deeply_ ingrained impulses that said _it’s the Doctor, the most dangerous man in the universe, do not let down your guard, kill him before he_ —

 _No,_ she seethed against her own mind, _stop it, those are_ lies _and he loves me and I’m not doing what you say anymore!_

Her hands trembled, finger frozen on the trigger, her throat paralysed.

The Doctor’s expression shifted as he lowered his legs from her desk.  “Hey,” he said softly as he got to his feet, “I’m sorry.  Wanted to surprise you; that was rubbish of me.  Didn’t think it through.  It’s been a long while for me since you were young, Miss Song.”

She tried not to let her gun follow him as he crossed the room, but her body wasn’t obeying her brain.  She studied him intensely.  He didn’t _look_ older— well, not physically.  But then, she’d only ever seen him the once.  It was ridiculous, when she thought about it: how she turned her whole world upside down because of a man she’d barely met.  

But then he looked at her the way he was looking at her now, and it made an awful lot of sense.

“There,” he soothed as he stepped into her space without the slightest hesitation, eyes fixed on hers and ignoring the gun now held an inch from his throat, “that’s it, there’s my girl.  It’s just me, dear.  Just your Doctor.”

His hand brushed against the side of her face, and finally something snapped free in her mind.

River lowered the gun, gasping, before tossing it onto the bed as if it had burned her.  The Doctor immediately folded her in his arms.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he sighed against her ear.  “I’m sorry.”  He was warm and solid, holding her steady, and he smelled wonderful.  She turned her nose into his neck, breathing him in.

 _“I_ pointed the gun at you,” she mumbled against his collar.  She should be embarrassed about this.  And she _shouldn’t_ be letting him comfort her, she was Mel—River Song.  She was _River Song._  She didn’t need anything from anyone.  

“Not your fault,” the Doctor said gently, his big hands sliding up and down her back.  River let out a shaky breath and let her arms settle around his waist.

Maybe just for a minute.

“What’re you doing here?” she asked, trying to steer his attention away from her own frightening new vulnerability.  “Thought you said… too much foreknowledge.”

“Oh, well, a _little_ knowledge is a dangerous thing,” the Doctor said into her hair.  “Lucky for you then, River Song, that I’ve got a lot.”

“You _are_ older,” she said, leaning back to look up at him.  She thought she could see it in those eyes of his: soft as ever when he looked at her, somehow full of mischief and joy and grief at once.

He tapped the side of his nose and smiled.  She was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to snog him silly.

“Thought I’d take you out to celebrate,” he said, slipping his hand into hers.  “What d’ya say?”

“Well,” she replied, her hearts fluttering as she shoved down the impulse to jump him in an entirely different way than when she’d first entered the room, “what did you have in mind?”

“Oh, a little dinner, a little dancing, a little danger?  The usual, in other words.  We don’t always plan on the danger bit, it’s just sort of expected at this point.”

“It sounds lovely, sweetie, but I haven’t a thing to wear.”  She bent to pick up the rather sorry box of the meagre possessions she’d brought along with her.  “Haven’t really had an opportunity to do any proper shopping.  I haven’t even been back to Earth, or, for that matter, the twenty-first century— but then, everything I’ve got there is a bit… Mels.”

He grinned down at her.  “I can bring you by Earth if there’s anything you need, but I’m certain I have some things in the wardrobe you’ll find _very_ River.”

“Well, then,” she said, eyeing him with blatant interest, “lead the way.”

—

She’d expected him to take her to the never-ending, dimension-defying wardrobe full of period costumes Amy had talked about.  Instead, the Doctor took her to his bedroom.

“You have women’s clothes in here?” River asked, trying not to appear as desperately curious as she felt while her eyes darted about the room.

“Well...” he said slowly, a little smile pulling at his lips, “some.”

There were an awful lot of books packed into every spare crevice of the space, a vanity in the corner, a fire crackling in the hearth with a double-wide armchair sat in front of it, and a table with a lamp on each side of the bed.  A black silk robe was draped over the back of the chair in front of the vanity.

This was _not_ one person’s room.

River’s eyes travelled back to the flickering fire, and then up to the photos lining the mantel shelf.

Oh.

Her own face beamed back at her again and again, most often pressed close to the Doctor’s wide, loopy grin.  In the largest frame in the centre, they were with her parents, all in hideous Christmas jumpers and inexplicably, in the Doctor’s case, a fez.

The Doctor took her hand before she could muster the wits to speak, pulling her after him into his wardrobe.  On one side hung rows of button downs, trousers and tweed, like he’d been wearing when she woke up in hospital after Berlin.  She was a quick study; she knew what the other side would be.

“I think you’ll find it all fits,” he said softly.

“I... see,” she answered breathlessly, brushing her hand over a row of jodhpurs.  “What, uh, what happened to all that about foreknowledge, then?”

“You’re not obligated, River.”  He dragged his hand through his hair, looking down at his shoes.  “Time can be rewritten and—” he seemed to rush through that as if it were painful even to entertain the thought, “—whatever you decide, that’s what happens.  But seeing as you’ve just chosen to give up your lives for me,” he looked up and met her eyes again, “I thought it only fair you see the place you have in mine.”

“Oh,” she breathed.

“You don’t exactly live here, not _technically,_ but I do pick you up every night.”

“What about tonight, then?”

“Well, here you are,” he said, eyes sparkling with amusement.

“But I’m—”

“Every night, but not necessarily in that order.”

“I see,” River said again, trying to calm her madly-fluttering hearts.  “How do you keep track?”

“Ah, I’ll tell you all about that soon enough.  Tonight, we’re celebrating River Song, future Doctor of Archaeology!  And _don’t_ tell me I said that.”

It felt a bit like the Doctor was constantly in on some joke just between he and himself.

“Well.”  She took a steadying breath.  “I’ll just change for dinner then, shall I?”

He waited expectantly for a moment, still smiling at her, and she cocked an eyebrow at him.  His eyes suddenly widened.  “Oh!  You mean I should— right!  Of course, I’ll just, uh, get out of your way and give you your uh... privacy.”

River grinned to herself as he beat a hasty retreat from the wardrobe.  Well, her future was looking better all the time.

——

It seemed the Doctor knew _everything_ about her.  He certainly knew more than she knew about herself.  When she stepped out of the TARDIS in a glittery black dress and found him in white tie, top hat and tails, clutching a bouquet, she discovered that he knew her favourite flowers.  He knew she’d love the little restaurant on Taurus 9, despite her never having been to the galaxy before, and he knew which wine she’d like, despite not drinking a drop of it himself.  

He knew, River realised, that she actually quite liked being romanced.  That was a new discovery.  She’d never really tried it before.

It was all completely mad.  Mad and disorientating and terrifying and thrilling and, she suspected, actually quite wonderful.  She was working up to testing that theory more thoroughly.

She found her chance when he pulled her onto the dance floor.

“Stevie Wonder?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and trying not to focus on how slipping back into his arms already felt suspiciously like she imagined it might feel to come home.  He was far from the most coordinated of dancers, but the song was slow enough to be forgiving and she was agile enough to avoid his haphazardly placed feet.

“Wh— of course, Stevie Wonder.  You love Stevie Wonder!”

She scrunched her nose in disbelief, and the Doctor gaped at her.  “Bit schmaltzy, isn’t it?”

“Schma— no!  It’s, it’s, romantic!  …Isn’t it?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure what a ‘ribbon in the sky’ even means— what, is he talking about a plane pulling a banner?”

“Well, no, I imagine it’s a… metaphor…” the Doctor trailed off, frowning.

Oh, no.  He hadn’t even looked like that much of a kicked puppy when she’d informed him that she’d killed him.

“So you mean to say that one day I will find Stevie Wonder terribly romantic, then?” she asked gently.

He continued to frown, and River threaded her fingers through his hair, moving in closer until they were cheek to cheek.

“I suppose I must have some terribly romantic memories associated,” she whispered in his ear.  “Better get on with making those.”

The Doctor’s grip tightened around her waist and she felt a smile spreading on his lips as he tucked his face into her neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine.  Then he pressed a kiss just below her ear, and it was all she could do to not whimper.

“Not so shy without my parents around, are we, sweetie?” she teased breathlessly.

He tensed in her arms for a moment, but before she could reflect on that he was leaving a trail of slow, hot kisses down her neck to her shoulder, and coherency left her entirely.

Hearts racing and body trembling slightly, River cupped the Doctor’s face in her hands and raised it to meet hers.  The intensity of feeling in his expression and all the intimate knowledge of her in his eyes should really have been more terrifying.  But she’d made her choice already.  Now she had a lifetime to learn if he really was worth it.

As her lips finally gravitated to his and they melted into each other with a sigh, she didn’t think it would take her that long.

—

Stevie Wonder had followed them, it seemed, when her back hit the inside of the TARDIS door.

River hummed an amused question into the Doctor’s mouth, not bothering to make herself clear when his tongue was reacquainting itself with hers and one of his hands was tangled in her hair while the other slid up the back of her thigh.   _Thank you, future self, for all the dresses with high splits._

“It’s her,” he panted against her lips while _My Chérie Amour_ echoed round the control room, and somehow she knew he meant the ship.  “She knows you too.”

“Doesn’t that make this a bit… awkward?  With her, ah, watching?”

“Er, best not think of it like that,” the Doctor mumbled, his mouth tracing over her collarbone.

“Okay,” she laughed, dropping her head back against the door with a thud.  The Doctor’s hand quickly moved up to cushion her from further impact.  “You know, I expected you to be all— I don’t know— ‘you’re too young, I’m too old,’” she breathed as his mouth drew ever nearer to the neckline of her dress.  “After the whole vanishing act in hospital.  Thought you’d make me wait.”

“Did that already when I was the young one.  Sorry for that.  I won’t do it twice, unless you’d like me to.  It’s your choice, dear.”

“God, no.  I mean, yes.  I mean— oh, just, take me to bed, will you?”

He chuckled, his warm breath bursting over her skin, and she shuddered.  “You always were the cleverer one.  …Don’t tell me I said that, either.”

River grinned.  “Mmm, no promises.”

—

The Doctor laid her down on the bed and undressed her like he was uncovering some sacred relic.  His fingers traced along her spine as he unzipped her dress, whispering reverent odes to her beauty.  The intensity in his eyes, the gentle touch of his hands and lips left her feeling somehow more than naked.  Exposed.  

In the midst of _their_ room, dropped into the middle of her future, suddenly it was all almost too much.

“River,” the Doctor laid his warm palm against her cheek, and she instinctively leaned into his touch, even as her adrenaline was spiking again, trying to launch her into fight-or-flight.  “We can stop.”

“It— it’s not that,” she stammered, sitting up on the bed and crossing her arms over her chest, mortified to feel herself flushing.  “It’s just… everything else.  I’m not some _virgin_ — oh, god.  I sort of am, aren’t I?”  She covered her face with her hands and groaned.  “This whole body-changing nonsense… at least I’m through with it now.”

She half expected the Doctor to laugh at her, but when she peeked through her fingers he was just smiling, wistful and understanding.

“Well, if you look at it that way, I sort of was too.”

“What— with, with me?”

“Spoilers,” he said, his affectionate smile widening as he smoothed his hand over her hair.

God, she was so done for.

“I don’t want to stop,” River blurted, ignoring her burning face.  “But can I ask you some things?”

“Of course you can.  But I might not be able to answer.”

“Maybe I should, um…” she fumbled with the bodice of her dress, which was bunched down around her waist, wondering how in the hell she had managed to make this so painfully awkward.

The Doctor kissed her cheek and stood from the bed as she pulled the straps back over her shoulders.

“I’ll make us a cuppa.  You’ve got pyjamas in the wardrobe as well, if you want to get comfy.  N—not that you have to stay, I mean—”

“No, I’d— I’d like that.  Thank you,” she mumbled, risking a grateful glance at her, her… what the hell was he to her, precisely?  Boyfriend?  That sounded ridiculous.

“Back in a mo’,” he said, grinning at her, and ducked out of the door.

—

Upon further inspection of her half of the wardrobe, it seemed River’s future self really did have an outfit for every occasion.  And while there were some elaborately sexy lingerie items, there were an equal number of comfortable choices.  She went for a matching silk pyjama set; at least she wasn’t going to spend her first night with the Doctor in some ancient battered t-shirt like they were an old married coup—

Or maybe that was exactly what they were.

By the time the Doctor returned with two cups of tea, her hearts were racing again.

He sat her cup on the table on her side of the bed— _her side of the_ — _!_ and climbed in on the opposite side, propped up against the pillows, still in his dress trousers, stocking feet, waistcoat and white bow tie.  The gentle smile on his face was dazzling.  He looked so _young,_ but at the moment, she felt every bit the young girl she really was to the ancient god beside her as she tucked her knees under her and shyly pulled up the covers.

The tea was perfect, of course.  

“So…” she hazarded a question, one she was fairly certain she knew the answer to already.  “I could change bodies because I’m like you.  Like a Time Lord.  They made me that way.”

“Yes.  And, you were sort of… erm… _started…_ in the TARDIS.”  He looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Star— oh.   _Oh._  So that’s what you meant.  That’s why I can fly her.”

“Again, don’t tell me I said so, but she’s always liked you better.”  

River let out a pleased little laugh, her hearts feeling more at ease.  “So, what does that mean… for us?” she asked, glancing nervously up at him.

“It means…” the Doctor sighed, looking down into his teacup.  “It means that I’m very sorry.”  He met her eyes again, a faint smile on his lips and that look of wonder shining through once more.  “And very lucky.”

“Your bespoke psychopath,” she murmured, inching closer to him without thought.

“Oh, River, you’re not— you were never that.  They could never make you that.  But we _are_ bespoke.  Couldn’t imagine a more perfect—”

She was kissing him before she knew it, soft and unhurried, and the Doctor made a little hum of contentment that warmed her from the inside out.

They parted before they spilled their tea, but they’d both somehow made it away from their respective sides to the centre of the headboard.  The Doctor tucked River against him, one arm wrapped around her, and kissed her hair.

It was all entirely too comfortable, intimate and domestic for a second date.  And it felt dizzyingly right.

“Are we married?”  The question just burst out of her without her brain’s approval.

The Doctor made an amused little sound.  “Thought you said you weren’t a wedding person.”

“I’m not.”

“Well, then.”

“But I’m not a… _this_ sort of person, either.”

“And what’s this?”

She huffed.  “You know— cuddling in bed with tea and all our clothes on.  Family photos on the mantel.  Half your wardrobe full of my things.”

“Funny, that,” he said, smiling down at her.  “I wasn’t that sort of person either.”

Oh, hell.

River abruptly leaned away to set her teacup on the side table.  The Doctor followed suit, watching her expectantly as she turned to face him.  Slowly, carefully, she lifted her knee over him and sank into his lap.  His arms settled around her immediately; their eyes locked.

“You told me you love me.”  Her voice sounded too small, wavering with some emotion she didn’t care to define.

The Doctor swallowed.  “I do,” he replied hoarsely.  “So much.”

“And I love you.”  It wasn’t a declaration, but it wasn’t quite a question, either.

“Only if you want to.”

_“Doctor.”_

“...Yes,” he sighed, “more than I deserve.”

River lifted her hand to his cheek, drinking him in: his bright, boyish face, entirely belying the depth of love and sorrow and _time_ in his eyes; the warmth and comfort that seemed to radiate from him and fill her mind with the sort of soft things that were very unbefitting of a psychopath.  She traced his jaw with her fingertips, then down to his throat, watching his lips part as his eyes drifted shut at her light touch.  She tugged one end of his bow tie, carefully untying it and sliding it from his collar.

“What’s it like?” she whispered.  “Our life together?”

“It’s… not easy,” the Doctor murmured, eyes still closed and faint brows furrowed as she moved on to the buttons of his waistcoat.  “It’s a mess, really, in every sense of the word.  It hurts sometimes.  A-a lot of the time.  We hurt each other, even if we don’t mean to.”

His eyes fluttered open again, clear and shining as they stared into hers.  “I’ve lived a very long time, River.  I’ve lived a lot of lives.  This life— _our_ life… it’s not like anything else.  It’s hard, and it’s wonderful.  It’s… worth it.”

River nodded once, firmly.  “Okay,” she said against his lips.  “Show me.”

This time, though she felt like every cell in her body was trembling with anticipation, it wasn’t too much.

Their clothing landed, piece by piece, on the bedroom floor.  Her world narrowed to his hands and his mouth and the heat blossoming everywhere they touched.  She let him lead her, just for tonight.  Just until he showed her how to be River Song; in their room, in their bed, in their life, in his arms.

And the Doctor clearly needed no direction.

“Oh, god, sweetie.”  She gasped and shook and clung to him while he touched her with obvious familiarity.  The smug tilt to that adoring smile on his face might’ve been infuriating if she weren’t so preoccupied with being reduced to a quivering wreck in his hands.

“That’s it, dear,” he said, his voice low and thick with desire in her ear as he leaned over her, one hand buried between her thighs and the other tenderly brushing a curl from her face.  “My amazing River.  I’ve got you, love.”

A whimpering cry tore from River’s throat as the pleasure overtook her and she writhed and shuddered below him.  When she came to her senses again, still delirious with bliss, her only thought was that she needed him closer, immediately.

“Doctor,” she moaned, wrapping herself around him, “come here.”

“I’m right here, honey,” he laughed, pressing soft kisses to her face as he shifted position over her.

“I need you,” she sighed.

“I’m yours.”

 

——

 

Morning dawned on Taurus 9 and found River curled up in the Doctor's arms.  She wasn't a sleeping-over sort of person.  At least not when it involved actual sleep.

She expected they'd both had quite a few not-unpleasant surprises about the sort of person they were when in each other's company.

He let her land the TARDIS back in her hall at Luna.  It was still strangely intuitive.  The ship _spoke_ to her.  Not in words, exactly… almost in feelings.  In a sudden certainty that she knew what to do; that she was where she belonged.  

It was a new concept, but River thought the TARDIS felt like home.

So did he.

“So, when will you be coming round?” she asked, striding out of the doors with forced nonchalance when all she wanted to do was turn on her heel and drag him back to bed.

The Doctor followed her with a strained smile.  “Not sure.  But I know you won’t be here too long.  You’re too clever for them, really.  You’ll be a doctor in no time.”

She tried not to let her face fall as she turned toward him.  “Surely I’ll see you before then?  What happened to 'every night?'”

He lifted her hand to his lips.  “That’s not yet.  But it’s soon.”  A pained look flickered across his face.

“How soon?”  She immediately hated how needy she sounded.  She had to learn to hide that from him.

“You’re young, River Song.  You need time to enjoy it!  Can’t have any fun with your old fella hanging around all the time.”

Her hearts skipped a beat.  “I believe I’ve recently observed some evidence to the contrary.”

The side of his mouth twitched up into a smile and he pulled her into his arms.

“Besides,” she mumbled, “I’ll only rush through all my youthful fun if I know you’re not coming back here.”

“River…” he sighed into her hair.

“I gave you my lives, Doctor, and I don’t regret it.  Now _I_ decide what I want to do with the rest of mine.  And I want you.”

He was quiet for a moment, just holding her close, and then he let out a heavy breath.

“So I suppose this is when you discover that I’m incapable of saying no to you.”

A giddy grin broke immediately across her face, which she desperately tried to get under control as he pulled back to look at her.

“Saturday at seven?” he asked, looking like he was fighting the same sort of ridiculous smile.

River bit her lip and nodded.  “I believe I’m free.”

“Good.  It’s a date.”  

The Doctor took her face in his hands and kissed her, slowly and thoroughly, until she was sighing and swaying into him and forgetting all about keeping her cool.

He tapped her nose as he released her, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and turned back to the TARDIS.  The doors opened with a snap of his fingers, and before she knew it, the brakes were groaning and wheezing as the ship dematerialised from her room.

River collapsed back onto her bed, hearts pounding.  

Then she abruptly sprang up again, crossing the room to her desk and rifling through the box of her things she’d left the night before.  Ah, there it was.  The blue book the Doctor had given her.  She wasn't quite sure yet what she ought to be doing with it, but...

She sat at the desk and pulled a pen from the drawer.

Wouldn’t want to risk forgetting their third date.

 


End file.
